Russian Roulette
by Devilish Kurumi
Summary: CidVincent, I guess. Vincent is a crazy, crazy man.


A/N: There is no A/N. Other than I don't own Cid nor Vince and I don't plan too, no matter how much I've always wanted a pet goth for my own.

* * *

Cid swears that life could not get any sweeter. The Highwind has been good to him for the past month or so – every sound he hears is flawless, smooth, and perfect – and the ship floats, frictionless, through the air. It's been a few months since the ship was repaired after all the damage from Comet and that whole... _ordeal_... and he's never been so happy to be flying again. If he could, he would be on deck right now, hands in the air, and if he could, he would be flying _for_ Highwind. 

His eye twitches as another loud gunshot goes off from his left. He'd love to do all those things, but right now, he had a certain vampiric ex-Turk to look to.

He finds Vincent in one of the lesser used rooms down below, aiming at handmade targets of pillows and steel rods that Cid _hopes_ aren't from anything important. They probably aren't – Vincent tends to know what is and isn't appropriate.

Except when it comes to that damned gun.

"Vince!" the pilot exclaims, just as another shot is fired. He winces at the noise and shouts again, "Valentine!"

"What?" the pale man asks without turning around, cocking the gun and firing it again at another target. Three down, all with perfectly centered holes in them. Cid always felt grateful that Vincent was on _their_ side in the battle against Sephiroth and Shinra, but now all he can think is that that _goddamned_ gun is going to give him a _goddamned_ headache pretty _goddamned_ soon.

"Shit, Vince, all you do 'round here is angst and go trigger happy in my damned ship!" Cid crosses his arms, resists going for a cigarette. "Ain't you got anything better to do?"

A small smirk graces the ex-Turk's face, and he replies, "Not really." _Bang_.

"Goddamn it, don't you ever run outta bullets!"

Vincent finally looks over at Cid, eyes glowing even in the light. It's kinda creepy, actually, and Cid's never gotten used to it. He lowers the gun, and mutters, "All the time."

Cid, assuming that the round was spent, goes over to the targets. "Shit, Vince. You're lucky you don't pierce the hull. Dead aim you've got there..." He hears the spin of the cylinder and suddenly feels very cold. He stands, slowly, and takes a cigarette out, lighting it with his silver lighter and then turning, slowly. Vincent stands in front of him, aiming for him. "What are you doin', Vince?" he asks, trying to play it cool while the sniper stares at him like a cold-blooded devil.

Vincent grins suddenly, and since it's the first grin Cid's seen on Vincent, it frightens him suitably. It's like a wolf's grin – no, not a wolf. More like Nanaki, whenever he used to see a beast heading for them. Nanaki always liked taking beasts out with his fangs.

Vincent's fangs aren't in his mouth – they're located inside the silver chamber of the goddamned revolver he's pointing at Cid.

"I don't just go _trigger-happy_, Highwind," the sniper says in an uncomfortably amiable voice, "I play games sometimes."

He's not going to bite, he's not going to- "Like?"

Goddamn it.

The gun cocks. Goddamn it.

Vincent takes a step closer. Cid holds his ground. Best not to run from a bear, else they chase you down and rip your throat right out.

Another step – still holding his position. Not gonna move for you, you sonofabitch, no way in hell. Another step. Cid wishes Vincent would stop grinning like that.

Half a pace away, Vincent stops. Maybe he's just trying to creep Cid out. Yeah, he must be, because Cid is not easy to creep out. Nanaki's smile and Vincent's fangs are both trained on him, though.

Seconds pass. Vincent turns the gun towards himself, aims – _holy fucking shit you fucking crazy motherfucker_ – and fires.

Cid is shoving Vincent out of his own range before the empty _click_ even registers.

Vincent is laughing, too goddamned calmly, and Cid feels suddenly very numb when two things register.

First, the chamber is empty.

Second, the gun is now pointed at his temple, instead of Vincent's.

"Mother_fucking_ son of a fucking _bitch_ are you fucking _insane_ you gave me a _fucking heart attack_ I'm old you _fucker_ I'm gonna _fucking _keel over if you keep doing crazy shit like that!"

It's like driving around in Midgar. You nearly get ran into by a giant Shinra bus but bypass it suddenly with only a breath between you. First comes the sheer terror, then the complete blank numbness of "Oh my god, everyone's alive," and then the anger at the goddamned Shinra bus for not looking where it was going.  
Vincent is still laughing, chuckling in crazed assurance that _yes_, Cid Highwind will take a bullet for him.

"You're fucking crazy!" Cid exclaims, eyes wide. Vincent loops an arm over his shoulders and leans a slight way down, eyes glowing brighter. "You're fucking _crazy_!"

"I've been told that," he purrs – holy shit, what the fuck. Near death experiences fucked Vincent up, apparently. The gun cocks right against his temple. He's not so scared now that he knows the chamber's empty, but still... a gun to your head? It can freak you out no matter what. "But, now I know."

"Know _what_? That you're a goddamned fucking crazy _lunatic_!"

"No." Vincent leans in very close – too damned close – and then slips the gun back – just a few inches, just beyond his hair – and pulls the trigger.

_BANG._

Cid nearly shits himself.

"You're willing to take a bullet for me. That's good to know."

Cid can't say one goddamned thing, even as Vincent turns, and walks out of the makeshift shooting range, cloak swirling around him.

Cid manages, finally, to close his jaw, smudging out the cigarette on the ground. Once he gathers his wits about him, he looks to the left – the direction the bullet went.

The target smokes, a hole punctured neatly through it's center.


End file.
